Things I Don't Need
by lesilec
Summary: Johnny encounters some problems on his mission to eradicate his feelings. Namely, intense nausea, and a voice in his head that's been trying to kill him. UPDATEan end, however halfassed or nonsensical, is still an end.
1. Yet again

This'll probably be the last update for some time, 'pologies. I broke my left hand, the reason for which I'd rather not disclose. Just fixed that...eh...minor...malfunction with Johnny's change near the end. It was pointed out to me by a friend and I smack myself for not noticing it earlier.

Berating and general nonsense for the next couple months I now direct to aerisignmail.com.

------------teh reluctantly crippled silec

* * *

There was a man at the counter. Nothing special about him. Just another sweaty, nondescript, oblivious sack of flesh. He had a task he needed to fulfill, just like the other flesh-sack standing in front of him in the middle-of-nowhere convenience store. 

The man was bored out of his mind. In the same position for hours, head on a hand, constantly checking his watch. He tapped out a disarranged rhythm with the other hand. He believed that he wasn't being paid nearly enough for such a simple, monotonous chore. A fine layer of dust had settled on the undisturbed shelves of long-spoiled junk food, on the windowsill displaying the lonely highway, and on the comatose man as well. The sun was still out, so late in the day. The sky was red and ablaze with heat. The black concrete outside the solitary establishment was littered with broken glass and unidentifiable stains. Steam slowly rose from the narrow, cliff-lined lanes.

Johnny's car was still running, standing in the middle of the road. As he slammed the door and entered the building he didn't give his parking a second thought, with only the scratchiness of his throat in mind. 

The glass door opened, ringing a disused bell atop it and assailing Johnny's nose with a disgusting scent of fried meat, ice cubes, and sewage. After acknowledging the man at the counter, Johnny gave a moment's consideration to the containers of ambiguous fluid within the glass freezers against the wall. He gave a polite smile and a nod to the cashier, and gestured questioningly towards the freezers. When he was given no answer from the man's drooling, half-open mouth, he shrugged and peered through the frosted glass. He walked slowly along the row of beverages, observing them each very carefully and poking into his wallet several times during.

The cashier endured a few minutes of this tedious drink inspection before awakening and becoming furiously annoyed at Johnny. "Hey, you!" he shouted, wiping the spit from his chin and breaking the silence.

Johnny looked up from a purple can and gave the man an odd, curious look. "Yeah, you!" the man continued. "Just pick something or get the hell out of my store!" He pointed angrily towards the car parked outside.

"Well? What are you waiting for?!" 

"I only wanted something to do drink," Johnny said simply, sadly glancing at the can. "I didn't think it would be so much trouble..."

"Then buy something. Jesus..." 

"Can I have this one?" Johnny asked, raising the same can.

The man at the counter opened up a newspaper and tiredly waved him on. "Yes, you can have that one. You can whatever you want."

Johnny brought up the item with a grin on his face and set it down on the table. Exasperated, the man rang up the total and checked his watch, again. Seven thirty. It was darker outside, now, but there remained a permeating humidity. The fluorescent lights flickered on as he pushed the hollow gray buttons on the register.

"That'll be four dollars," he said, offhandedly, and returned to his prior lethargic position. He waited as Johnny emptied the contents of his wallet, mounds of copper coins, onto the counter, and tediously counted them one by one with a single finger.

"It appears I don't have enough, sir," Johnny said after some time. "Would three thirty-eight be enough?" The cashier buried his face in his hands. "No, it would not. Just go. Please, go away."

When the young man at the counter would not leave, he looked over at him, and noticed that Johnny was gripping something sharp. It took a second for it to register in his mind; when it finally clicked he jumped backward, spilling cartons of cigarettes all over the dingy linoleum. "Shit...hey...hey, wait, it's okay, just take it, I don't mind..." He fumbled around the ledge behind him and produced a greasy paper plate which he used as an inadequate shield.

Johnny sighed, and tapped the small knife against the counter impatiently. "No, that's quite alright. It's not the soda I'm worried about anymore, anyway." Casually, he twirled the blade in front of the man's screaming face. The plate wavered for a few seconds, then fluttered to the ground in tiny shreds. Slowly, the man slid to the ground, clutching his knees to his chest and shaking slightly. "It's just that, well, I do wonder how such an unpleasant person such as yourself came to acquire the prestigious duty of convenience store clerk. Perhaps there is a way I can ameliorate this malfunction." The man begged for his life. Incessant redundancy. It was all just repetition, repetition that had long since ceased to have any effect on Johnny. Another day, another million miles of endless human emotion.

He reached out over the counter and twirled the blade again, silencing the shrill cries and helpless pleas. Wiping the blood from the cold aluminum, he carried it out to his car, leaving behind only the sharp chime of the rusting bell upon the door.


	2. Tacos, and other such distractions

Thanks to the good peoples who reviewed the last chapter. Chapter 3 may take a little longer, certain less than good peoples deem it necessary to devote the last two weeks of class to big projects. In the mean time, please continue to review.

--------silec

* * *

The days and weeks since Johnny's sorrowed departure had melded together into one hateful ordeal. He could no longer differentiate moments or experiences, only a massive aversion towards the trip and its entirety.Perhaps it was not the trip itself, but the people. That which he was trying so hard to escape, mankind and their wearied dramatics, followed him wherever he went. The faster he drove his broken down wreck of a car, it seemed, the more human distractions threw themselves in harm's way to slow him down. The more he tried to muffle his body's cries for rest and sustenance, the more he would find himself the sole client at a late-night roadside fast food restaurant. He was trying his best to push the memories away. Every surrender to need and want brought on an onslaught of nostalgia. Johnny found it funny, somewhat, that while before, he had gone insane from his head emptying itself of all memory, now he was expending all his energy towards getting the faces and the feelings away. Every day, Johnny's mission lost more and more ground. Not only was he giving into his bodily urges, he was crying now, too. Sleepless nights spent driving the infinite, unlit highways were punctuated by a brutal stabbing of the car's brake and the sounds of weeping echoing throughout some barren, uncaring locale. He tried, every day, to not think, to not remember anything. But still, his mind revealed itself to him thousands of times over. 

The feelings came from the most random catalysts. A new emotion resurfaced itself while Johnny sat in his car eating a drive-thru taco, cursing himself for this new failure. He sat there, trying to concentrate on something other than the foul taste in his mouth. Anything. Somehow, the fried cheese and rehydrated meat product brought Devi to his mind. For a moment, the thought of her brought a sensation of the deepest calm to Johnny. It was as if she was there beside him. He dropped the taco onto the passenger's seat beside him and slumped slightly, purely out of bliss. For a moment, he was happy.

But the moment was gone as abruptly as it had come. The stench of lard and gasoline overpowered Johnny's ecstasy, and he landed from the heavens back into a pile of shit once more. Johnny felt his heart racing. He was certain that Devi had been sitting next to him just then. He felt around the passenger's seat, just to be sure. Trying to calm himself down, he wiped the sweat from his brow and wrung his hands a few times. "No, not again..." he mumbled. "It's not real...it never is..." He kept his arms completely straight and held the steering wheel tight. "None of it is real."

Something deep within Johnny writhed, anxiously. He suddenly felt horribly nauseous. The thing inside spoke to him in a soft voice. _"We are if you let us,"_ the thing whispered. Johnny instantly bent down underneath the steering wheel, hiding from the sober gray sky, or whatever it was that had spoken to him. He was going to throw up. He could feel it. His heart raced faster, and he felt a dull pain in his chest. He needed to get away.

"I won't let you..." came a weak murmur from beneath the glove compartment. Johnny rolled up the windows, and scanned the pale horizon through slit eyes. Nervously, he fumbled with the ignition. "I can't let you," he half-yelled over the roar of the engine, then drove away as fast as possible, running over a small, furry creature in the process. Hot black streaks were left on the spot where he had parked.

Once he was a significant distance from the restaurant, he flipped to a random radio station and put the volume on the highest setting. He couldn't hold it in anymore. Opening the windows with a shaking hand, he stuck his head out the small gap and vomited into the road.

The thing had spoken to him on more than one occasion. Perhaps, Johnny theorized when the queasiness had subsided, it was his mind's need to speak to itself, and with no more vessels to occupy, it had done the next best thing. Another hypothesis he thought equally possible, was that he had gone completely insane.

This voice, this conscience, had brought numerous other entities to Johnny's mind, however none had given such a reaction as had the memory of Devi. Johnny and his memories were at war, and he was losing. There was little he could do.

Several hours of frantic driving later, Johnny had an idea. "Maybe it's time I headed home..." he wondered aloud. "I am running out of funds, and these country people don't take very kindly to theft..." Half-expecting the voice to offer its own opinion, he was surprised when he was given none.

Johnny beat the dashboard with a fist and looked at his boots. They were worn and graying from constant friction over the past few weeks. "Somebody tell me what to do." 


	3. Nostalgia

When faced with the option of doing homework and writing fanfics, one must choose the good path, the righteous path.

In this chapter, Johnny goes crazy, and other unrelated crap happens, or doesn't happen, depending on how you look at it. Review the fruits of my labor and you will be awarded with silent acknowledgement.

----silec

* * *

Johnny's diary lay in the otherwise empty trunk. It was one of the few things he had thought to take when he left home. He had hoped that he would not need to bring anything along with him, as a symbol of the casting aside of his human shell, but he had a strange affinity for the book, and so it became his sole companion on the long and lonely ride. However, once on the road and deep into his mission, Johnny found that he had no inclination to write in his die-ary any longer. In fact, it began to develop into a burden eating away at his integrity. Every time he saw it, it filled him with a burning hatred. The object just lay there, unmoved, beckoning him to open it up and unleash the floodgates of his soul, or at least just look into what had once been there. Nny's mounting rejection of the book and its constant invitations only made him beat himself up more about the die-ary's presence within his single means of transportation. It wasn't as if he needed to see his past anymore.

In addition to the book, the thing within Nny had dropped all the false pretenses of familiar faces and happy memories, and now had resorted to much more unpleasant methods of persuasion. Every day, new opportunities presented themselves for that creature to once again torture him. It no longer waited patiently for chances to plug itself into his psyche. The faces of his victims now floated into his vision, clouding his judgement in the worst possible scenarios. The spells of nausea were now much more violent, as well. Sometimes Johnny feared that he would be run off the road from an aching belly.

One upside to the new arrangement, he rationalized, was that it no longer spoke to him in that sweet, yet eerie voice. The victim's pleading faces were enough to illustrate its point. It was trying to turn him back into the old Johnny, the one that was a slave to people, to urges. He would always tell himself that that couldn't happen, that he was impervious to such things, at such a distant point in his objective. But now, he wasn't quite so sure.

Late in a black, starless night, Johnny found himself thinking, again. It was a despicable trait of the feeling organism, to think. "I must rid myself of this one, too..." he muttered inaudibly under sagging eyelids and hunched shoulders. His headlights had blown out over a week ago, and he was forced to squint at the road ahead whenever the sun went down. He was surprised he hadn't been arrested yet. Come to think of it, he considered, there's a lot of shit I'm surprised I'm not in jail for. "There I go, thinking again." He tried to laugh, but laughter, which had once come so easily to Johnny, was now reduced to a high-pitched, vaguely amused squeak. 

Dark curtains covered his fatigued eyes every now and then. Johnny fought against the rising need to sleep. "How long, I wonder," he said, his speech heavy and slurred, "How long since I last slept. A week now, possibly."

Smirking mischievously, he swung his head around to face the empty seat beside him, and put a thin arm around the back of the head cushion. "Wha joo think, Devi?" he asked, his voice even more unintelligible now. He was delirious. Perhaps from the lack of rest, perhaps from his awful diet over the past few months; in any event, he was not entirely sane. Johnny kept a hard stare on the empty seat, still driving, seeming to listen to a silent voice. After several seconds, he threw back his head and cackled wickedly.

The force of his laughter was so extreme that his seatbelt gave way, causing him to tumble onto the passenger's seat in a giggling wreck. Keeping one foot on the accelerator, he turned over onto his back and gestured at random spots on the moth-eaten, greenish polyester roof of the car. "The stars, Devi..." he whispered, tears streaming down his sallow cheek. "Such an amazing illusion..."

The highway was illuminated in the light of a blazing heat. The tremendous noise of the crash brought police to the scene within a short amount of time. A man was found within the wreckage, crouched in the fetal position in the driver's seat. He was badly beaten, but he appeared to be still alive.

When they shone a light on Nny's face, he mustered the energy to crack a single eyelid open. "Hey, you!" the owner of the flashlight shouted. Johnny opened the other eye with a great amount of effort. "Yeah, you! Was anyone else in the car with you?" Johnny licked the blood from his mouth. He paused, seeming unsure. "No..." he said, his voice cracked. "No, just me..."

"You sure?" Sirens could be heard in the distance, and blue and red lights echoed around the empty canyon. Johnny shook his head, just a little. "Devi's gone now..." he added. "She was here, but..." He paused, to think.

"She's gone..."


	4. Talking to strangers

Thanks to crazy veggie for reading and reviewing so much. You've just made me so...snif...happy...

I can't recall the title or the author of the song I've included in this chapter, but it just came to mind today, and I felt like using it. Anyway, I don't own it, so no lawsuits.

After writing this, and doing the final edits, I glanced up at the logo on the top left of this page, "unleash your imagination and free your soul," and I'm just a tad freaked out.

I have a confession to make, I've got absolutely no idea where this story's going. Sometimes I feel like I've got this massive block, then ten minutes later I'm rambling on and on. So, I guess, if I've got no idea where the plot train's gonna crash, nobody else will, so it all works out. But I hope that at this point it should be obvious what's going on, at least.

--------silec

* * *

_Here's a man that lives a life of danger_

_Everywhere he goes, he stays_

_A stranger_

_Howdy stranger, mind if I smoke?_

_And he said..._

_"Every man...every man for himself..."_

_---------------------------------------------------------------------_

The hospital was reluctant to let Johnny leave so soon after arriving. Not only was his body still in terrible condition, but he was also fascinating for the psychiatric ward to study. There was something different about him, something that they could sense, but could never quite see. Nevertheless, just two weeks after arriving as a bruised and battered heap, Nny packed up his few possessions and left without a word.

Johnny couldn't stand it at the hospital. The white walls and the blaring sameness, the monotony, the precision of the entire place made him feel like his heart was being placed slowly into a tiny box with no escape. And, in such a small place, there was nowhere he could run. Once he was on the road again, in his car, he felt as if he had been let adrift in an endless ocean.

The creature was getting annoyed with Johnny. It had abandoned the "silent treatment" method and now was hot, angry, and excessively talkative. He tried his best to ignore it, but in each passing day it gained in strength.

The hardest part in ignoring it, Johnny noticed, was that it knew him. It _was _him, as Reverend Meat and Mr. Eff and all the other countless entities had been, and yet, it was an entity in and of itself, which made it all the more persuasive. At times, it could be soft and motherly, gently prodding little Johnny in the right direction. And, at other times, it was menacing and antagonizing, turning to threats and dreadful information that Johnny himself knew all too well.

And sometimes, it used the most devastating tactic of all. It would not make a single move, only sitting and waiting within him, letting him just imagine all the horrible things he would be forced to endure when the creature grew bored of this game. During this game, the nausea would grow and grow until Nny was forced to expel the fear and worry through his mouth.

Upon stopping the car for the first time since his departure from the hospital, he had a sudden desire to flip through his die-ary. Just for a moment. It wouldn't be a loss or a gain for either side, he told himself. "I'm just curious." Johnny nodded, and rubbed the rust from the trunk's lock gently.

Johnny spun around, guarding the trunk protectively. He looked around, peering at the small crowd gathered at the gas station. Tourist families and their fat little children. Leering, shit-poor old men and their broken-down station wagons. No one of any particular danger. One of the large children giggled at him. Nny tossed a frozen glare in his direction, and the child burst into tears. Carefully, he unlocked the trunk.

The lid popped open. Strange, he didn't remember it ever opening up so quickly. But there it was, just as it had looked the day he left home. An uninteresting collection of papers. Stray lines of ink dotted the sides and the cover, but nothing else distinguished it from something found in a gutter.

Johnny held it in his hands far from his face like a long-lost child he never really wanted. He opened to a random page, and read. Typical, asinine crap. Nonsensical, ten-page monologues spouting pseudo-philosophical bullshit. He turned the pages, forward, backward. The dates didn't matter. More of the same.

He shut the book, and laid it back into the trunk, closing it slowly. Without filling up on gas, he got in and sat down. His hands gripped the steering wheel, his eyes lay straight ahead. But he couldn't move.

The creature chuckled. It was a low, deep rumble that hurt his organs. _"Tell me, Nny, what did you expect?"_ Johnny shrugged. "I don't know. Something. Something…else, I suppose."

_"Johnny, Johnny…I'm ashamed of you."_

"Shut the fuck up, you vomit-inducing tick." He turned the key in the ignition. The car sputtered, then died.

_"Now, that's not very nice, is it?"_ Johnny tried the ignition again. Nothing._ "There's no gas in there, Johnny-poo, and anyway, you're going to have to listen to me sooner or later."_ He got out and slammed the door behind him. The chubby little boys and girls were gone. He kicked the tire several times with the worn toe of his boots. His favorite boots, reduced to a mound of stitched-up, graying leather.

"What?! What is it you want me to do, you fucker?!"

He could feel it inside him, moving around, readjusting to this new victory._ "It's what we all want, Johnny. It's what I've been wanting for a very, very long time. And I've tried hard, so many times, so very many times, to get through to you. Because it's what you want, too, and you won't accept that. You push it away like so much dirt and sewage. You can call it unnecessary or whatever else you'd like, but that doesn't change the fact that it's still in you, and it wants out."_ Johnny shook his head, and regained his posture.

"No, you're wrong. I'm through with that. That's why I left. I'm going to get rid of all of that, and then you'll be gone, too, and I can finally be myself!" Once more, the creature laughed, in a different voice, this time. It was using Nailbunny's voice, to trick him, to persuade him into thinking things differently_._

_"Johnny…"_

"Shut up, that trick's not going to work on me anymore!"

_"Poor, deluded Johnny…you really are stupid, aren't you?" _He broke into a run, past the junk food station, past the loose shrubs beyond it, anywhere, just to get away_."You can't run from me, Nny."_ It was still right there, beside him.

"I can do whatever I want! I'm free from it all! I'm free from humanity! I'm free from you!"

He felt a smile grow on the jagged lips of the creature_."Of course you are, Nny. Whatever you'd like yourself to think."_


	5. What we can't have

This chapter's somewhat short. I had some prior obligations, but it felt odd not putting up a new chapter today, so I did what I could. Mostly just some random dialogue between Nny and the thing. I've gotten tired of calling it such a vague name, so every now and then it's referred to as the stranger.

-----silec

* * *

Dust-colored, windy days and dim, reticent nights with no separation in between the two. Every now and then there'd be a thunderstorm to even things out, but everything stayed more or less the same. The landscape was constant as well; a bleak, sterile prairie, the dirt and sparse vegetation all one drab shade of puce.

Johnny was off somewhere else. You could see it in his unblinking eyes, the way he watched but never quite concentrated on the infinite, straight-line road ahead. The creature, the stranger, was content with this new Johnny, and rarely bothered him now. It was not yet a complete success, but he had him weakened, numb to the touch.

Even though it was an evil being, possibly with the motives to destroy Nny, it was his only company, and he was lonely. He sometimes missed their stilted, one-sided conversations. "You never did answer my question," he said. It was an ordinary, dreary morning, and he was especially bored. In response, he felt his stomach retract slightly.

_"I'm sorry, what is you mean, Johnny?"_

"What do you want. What is it you're trying to do to me, or make me do."

_"Ah, that. Well, I'd rather let time tell you on that one, Nny."_

"I'd much like you to die, by the way," he mentioned.

_"Don't we all. We can't always get what we want, though."_ Johnny nodded, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "True, true."

They were quiet for the time being. After about an hour, he spoke again. "But that still doesn't answer my question."

_"No, it doesn't. But you have to learn to accept some things, or else neither of us will get anywhere." _

"But, my mission..." His gut exploded in intense spasms, and the car swerved out of control for a few seconds.

_ "You fucking idiot. Your mission, Johnny, is a moronic, ill-conceived plan that's going to kill you if you don't stop."_ He parked the car at the side of the road and spat out the meager contents of his stomach into a small growth of dandelions. He knelt there for a moment, staring at the trash strewn about the area. "Why should I listen to you? Isn't that what you're planning on doing, anyway?" It giggled at him in the voice of Nailbunny. He spit into the grass once more. _"If you should die along the way, it's of no concern to me. However, I don't think it would be wise to end your life so painfully and stupidly. Anyway, I have much better things in mind for you."_

Johnny coughed and got back in the car. "How lovely."

_"Indeed, indeed..."_ it added, and the two fell silent for the remainder of the day.

Though Nny liked to believe that his mission thus far had been somewhat of a success, the observant artisan he had once been would turn up every now and then. Every morning, even now, he'd park the car and watch the sun rise from the colorful overture of brilliant red and gold. From time to time, the creature would give its own sarcastic opinion on the whole irony of the situation, but Nny was left otherwise alone in this ritual. So much thinking had left him full of questions and choices. Choices left him feeling itchy and naked. "There's so little about this world that I know, about my own being, and I suppose that could become a burden to my mission. So tell me, stranger. There's something I'd like to find out."

He felt a warm sensation spread throughout his veins. The thing was pleased with him. It made Johnny feel sick. But he felt that he needed to continue. "What are you?"

_"Such a silly question, Johnny."_

"You never seem to like answering my questions. Is it because you're scared of what I'd do if I knew the answers?" A passing breeze fluffed his dark hair. It had been months, if not years, since he'd been to Hell and back. It was growing in nicely.

_ "No, that's not it at all. I'm just very bored right now, Johnny. Being me, being with you, is a truly boring experience."_ Johnny laughed, dully. "How so?"

_ "It's like children, Johnny. Stupid, preadolescent children."_ He readjusted his uncomfortable seating position atop the car. The windblown antenna had been whipping his face. He now sat with crossed legs in a vaguely meditative pose. "So now you're saying I'm immature? Although I do admit that causing physical harm to those who upset you is a bit childish, I daresay it's hardly comparative." The warmth in his veins went cold. _"That's not what I mean. You have things that you want, that your body is telling you that it needs, and you shut it out. Like those dumb little boys that throw rocks at a young girl rather than tell her that they have a hopeless infatuation. You reject all that makes you a living being, and tell yourself that it can be completely gotten rid of like some passing illness. And this idiotic little dance gets boring very fast, Johnny."_

Johnny stretched out his legs and yawned a few times. "Do you deny the progress I've made, stranger? I feel nothing. I have no emotions, no obligations but to your own tiresome distractions."

_ "We all want what we can't have, Johnny. You seem to desire the impossible."_

"Fuck you," Johnny said, jumping to the ground and patting his sides in search of the car keys.

_ "You poor, poor boy."_


	6. Spirals

Again, mostly just some dialogue between Nny and the stranger. I think I just I love writing it so much because they both find each other so annoying.

Thanks 'gain to teh review-monger insane vegetarian.

------silec

* * *

_ "You're sick, Johnny."_ "Shut up." He tried to sound defiant, but his voice was weak and quivered like an airborne feather. Dark lines encircled his bloodshot eyes, and he looked even more pale and bony than usual. 

_ "Come now, Nny, you look dreadful. You need to eat something. Or at least excrete something you've already ingested through some method other than forceful regurgitation."_ The car was at a standstill. Johnny had stopped the car suddenly, unable to focus on driving any further. Now he was slumped the wheel, staring at an uncertain spot in the sky. His hands lay limply at his sides.

"I won't eat...I won't sleep. You don't control me." He tried to laugh at the stranger. A splintered, damp wheezing escaped through his nose.

_"It's over. Your mission is done Nny. Listen to me, go home, kill a cheerleader on the way if you so please. Go home and revive yourself, then release your pent-up emotions and teach this undeserving a world a much- needed lesson! There's fire in your soul, Johnny! Set it free and let it burn!"_ A gaunt arm shot out of the door, and grabbed the frame of the door. He pushed himself out of the car. Stumbling, he left the car behind and began walking.

_ "Oh, this looks interesting. Tell me, Nny, do you expect that you can escape your problems any faster by walking the length of this highway?"_ He ignored the stranger, and instead tried to keep his legs moving without collapsing headfirst into the asphalt. "I'm not running from any problems," he said in between staggered footsteps.

_ "Johnny, you know that I'm right. You're stubborn, but you know that what I'm saying is the truth. You can't keep doing this forever. You have to go home eventually."_ The stranger's voice was filled with malicious, self-satisfied glee. It sounded not unlike Johnny did, standing before one of his victims in the not-too-distant past.

"I won't go home," Johnny breathed. His eyes narrowed and a vein rose on his neck. "There's nothing there for me, anyway."

_"What about Devi? Don't you think she misses you? And Squee? And all those people you left in your basement? They all need to be dealt with." _Devi. He could see her again, walking alongside him. A sweet scent filled Johnny's nose, causing him to stop. Just for a fraction second. But the stranger could sense it, and he kept up his assault.

_"She cried, you know. When they couldn't find you. You made her cry, Nny."_ He was so tired. He needed to stop. He hung from his waist and let his fingers dangle across the loose gravel. "What is it that makes you want me to go back home so badly?"

_ "I only want for you to be yourself."_ Johnny could remember what that was like. Always a slave to feelings or consciences or walls. He had had no control over anything. "I am myself. The other me, the one you seem to be so desperate for me to become, stranger, that was the shadow. Now I have nothing, I need nothing. I'm standing in the light." He stood with arms outstretched, eyes closed, basking in the dim, cloudy sunshine. _"The light will consume you, Johnny."_

"I don't have to listen to this." He started walking again. The stranger pulled at him from the inside. _"It's not so bad, being a slave, Johnny. Really. You can believe that you're in control. You can let yourself go. You can do whatever makes you happy." _

"Yeah? Well, what if I don't want to?" He felt the familiar painful acidity in his stomach, but nothing came up this time. There was nothing left to come up. _"That's not an option. It never was. You believe that you're making progress, but all you're doing is becoming an annoyance." _Johnny sighted a parking lot in the distance. It would be good to rest, once he got there, he noted.

"An annoyance? To whom?"

_ "To all of us. Myself included, but Mr. Eff is especially displeased with you, Johnny. He expected much more of you."_ He was closer now. It was a run- down looking place, but they had chairs, it seemed, which was a start.

"Mr. Fuck's in there with you?"

_"Absolutely. You're quite a crowded individual, Johnny. There are others like you, of course. Those who can't solve their own dilemmas then create extras within themselves to help them out. Sometimes, though, these extras can become something extra. They develop minds of their own. You, Johnny, are exceptionally screwed up, and now your separate consciousnesses have developed physical characteristics, personalities, even opinions." _

"And you? You seem different than the others. Older, more real, in a way. But I don't think I've ever seen you in a physical form."

_"That's because there's been no need. You'd been a good little boy, until you got those crazy ideas in your head from Mr. Samsa, and I had to drag myself out of the Id."_ Johnny pondered this new information for a moment. He had made it to the parking lot, and slowed his step a bit to delay the inevitable human interaction that lay ahead. "Are you Reverend Meat?" he offered. "I've heard you use his voice more than a few times. Along with the others'."

It chuckled. Johnny could feel an ulcer burrowing into his skin. _"No, although he did bring up some interesting notions, Nny. You should have listened to him when you had the chance."_ He had his hand on the silver handle of the door. He had paused, but not because of what the stranger had said. A foul aroma lay on the other side of that door. He stepped back a few feet and traced his eyes around the exterior to confirm his beliefs.

"This...this is the same store, isn't it? I've been here before. This is where I killed that clerk."

_ "Indeed, it is."_

"Shit."

_"Mmm."_

"You say you want me to go home?"

_"That's right."_

"Huh."

_"Indeed."_


	7. And the moon in the sky

  
  
He didn't understand. He didn't fucking understand anything. Nobody could. And he was willing to bet that nobody gave a damn, anyway. These feelings were overriding his mind. He'd given in just once, just that one goddamned time, and now look what had happened. Johnny was a mess. A nonsensical, emotional mess.

But the stranger had no part in that. None whatsoever, and he reveled in the delicious irony. All along he'd been pushing Nny, and when the finally push had not been his own, or Nny's, for that matter, it delighted him to no end. So there were no insidious observations on the stranger's part, because he was too busy relishing each moment.

Johnny was going home. Seeing that decaying corpse had made him realize something. He was going to end up like that corpse, dead and forgotten, and still he would not understand shit about what it means to be empty, to be cold, to live. He could travel up and down the Earth and still, he would not know, and he would be alone.

So he was on that same godforsaken highway, but headed in the opposite direction, towards a dark, misty sky that seemed to mock him with every passing second. And he cursed himself for his weakness, but all the while, he knew there was nothing he could do but drive. But rather than driving towards an uncertain future, as he had done for the past months, he forced himself onward in shame and defeat. Not that it mattered. Not that any of the shit he was put through mattered at all. And Stranger could feel the anger seething all around him. He thought it was funny.

"Is there something wrong, Johnny-poo?" he said, taking pleasure in each syllable's effect on Nny.

"You're getting more real. You've got your own voice now." Johnny didn't have that sense of loneliness anymore. He despised every moment he spent attached to that parasite. It was growing inside him, gaining strength.

"So you've noticed. I no longer need to depend on the others anymore. And I may even outgrow you as well."

"Then where are they? What happened to all those others I had floating around inside me?"

"They're no longer real."

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"I've become too strong. Let's face it, Johnny, none of them were ever truly powerful. They had their cute little mind games, of course, their tricks and their bribery. But I have the potential to be something more."

"I don't believe you." A stray cat hissed at Johnny's speeding vehicle from the side of the road. He resisted the temptation to get out and do far more to the animal. "The doughboys alone had more power than you. You can't even get yourself out of my head."

"Oh, they're still here, and they're still fighting, but it can hardly be called a battle. I've taken from them what you seem to think I lack."

"You can materialize now?"

"Any time I want to. But I'm quite content here in your mind. I don't think there'll be any need for me to exit my current form unless you slip up again." Stranger's new voice was condescending and felt like an injection to Johnny. He muttered a curse through clenched teeth. He didn't need to know this. He didn't need to know any of this crap, but he wouldn't stop asking these stupid questions.

"Just shut up. Can you do that for me, stranger? For the rest of the way back, just shut your damn mouth."

"If I shut up, then you'll start remembering that girl again. And that'll feel much worse, won't it?"

"By the by, would you care to stop doing that, too?"

"It's not me doing any of those things, Johnny. You're the one who can't let go of her. Your figments aren't the only one in here; she's been with you ever since you left."

"LEAVE ME ALONE." It was true, though. They had only been together for a short time, but she still haunted him. Her face, so close to his, almost but not yet touching. What they had been, what they had almost become, before he had tried to kill her. It tortured Johnny to no end. In order to preserve the beauty of the start he had wrenched it from the roots. A precious melody cut short by an imprudent expulsion of stinky air.

"So what do you plan to do when you get home, Johnny?"

"Why do you continue to not shut the hell up?"

"It's a simple question with a simple answer. You don't have to be so rude."

"Cease your noisemaking, parasite." He saw fume-belching smokestacks in the far-off distance. Civilization. The outskirts of a town that, while Nny was not very fond of, he had come to call home.

"Is it something embarrassing? Are you going to go rescue the damsel in distress and fuck her and buy a quaint little home in the suburbs and have piles of mangy dirt children?" Johnny could feel it rising inside him already. All the people, their energy, he could feel it. He wanted to kill them all so very badly.

"No, I'm going to go home and find some way to get rid of you and go on with my life."

If Nny had been more observant and less annoyed at that moment, he may have noticed the die-ary that he had not moved from his truck lying in the back seat. He may also have noticed the cover flutter, very slightly, as if disturbed by a quiet breeze.

"The birds and the bees and the flowers and the trees..." the stranger sang, causing Johnny to grind his teeth harder.


	8. Tiresome revelations

I think it might be easier if I just made the chapters longer and stopped making these leedy beedy ones every damn day. But I just lurve battling paragraph placement over and over again.

-----silec

* * *

"Devi, I love you.""That's not good enough." 

"Shut up, why do I care what you think?"

"Because I'm the only one who gives a shit about anything you do." Johnny was sitting alone, or not quite alone, on the grimy curb not too far away from a specific lady's home. His head was buried in his lap, and at his side lay a bouquet of salmon-colored blossoms, wilting and yellowed from the nervous hands that had gripped them much too hard. The atmosphere was different here than it had been out on the road. It made him paranoid and uneasy. Each passing car sent a shudder through his spine and made him lock his knees together, toes pressed firmly into the sidewalk. The towering buildings, the dark, enticing shadows, the crowds of people, everything frightened Johnny. Things were not the same at all.

"I need to get out of here. There has to be something else I can do in this place. Maybe I could go home for a bit." No, he had to do this. She would haunt him to his grave if he didn't. Then again, she'd probably do the same if he did, which was why Nny was still there with his dead flowers.

His die-ary was there, too, sitting idly on a nearby bus stop bench. He didn't question why it was there; he only attributed it to the stranger and moved on. It was better, he decided, to not know too much about the voices in your head.

"Come on," it coaxed. "You seemed so ready when you bought those flowers. Now you're going to quit?" Johnny shrugged. He glimpsed the inappropriately positioned die-ary out of the corner of his eye. For a moment, the book looked almost hurt.

"I'm not cut out for this sort of thing. I'm all for pain and destruction. Love and happiness just isn't my thing, stranger. You should know that."

"That's the doughboy in you talking. You're through with that now. It's love, Johnny. I need it, and you need me, and so you're going to have to get it right eventually."

Recently, he had learned to use such endearing terms as "love" and "affection" in order to win Johnny over. Nny scoffed at this newfound passion of stranger's, but it didn't seem to be ending this crusade of emotions anytime soon, so he played along with it sometimes.

"Please, you're going to make me sick. I can't do this. I've hurt her. She's scared of me. The second Devi sees who I am she's going to lock me out or possibly kill me, and I'd rather not have either happen."

"You don't have to worry about that. I've already made you sick, and I could have killed you long ago if I'd wanted," replied the sweet voice.

"How comforting. And, hey, since when have I needed you?"

"Without me, you'd be delirious and running through Arkansas half- dead with her illusion at your side."

"Ah, yes; that." Though he was by no means ready or determined, Johnny stood up as purposefully as he could and marched towards her home.

Devi's apartment was on a smallish street near downtown lined with other homes. Things were relatively quiet, but the gasoline hamburger smell of the city was everywhere. Billboards were visible in all directions. Johnny passed looming, red-brick row-homes and cold, emotionless highrises. It was a route he could barely remember, from a long time ago. He didn't recognize the ominous buildings, how before they had blended in perfectly with the scenery. Of course, he was completely dazed then, he couldn't tell left from right. He had been with her. But now, he was awake, and he could see everything in all its disgusting, human glory. Walking at a brisk pace to avoid his surroundings, he could not see the grass, only the dry, cracked spaces in between it, not the ripe fruit of a fragrant cherry tree, only the rotting cadavers hanging limply from the branches.

Nny made it past the gauntlet unscathed. There was his prize, a beacon shining brightly through the crap surrounding it. Devi's apartment. It was a place where she existed, not in Johnny's dreams and nightmares, but in reality. He could hear faint voices from within, and he broke into a run, paying no heed to anything that might be trampled in his frantic sprint. Her voice unlocked something within him, and whatever had been in it had just been set free.

Just as he made it up the stairs and reached the door, it creaked open, spilling light into the darkened world. Johnny's face lit up. "Devi?" he whispered. The silhouette of a young woman reached Johnny's misty eyes, and he took a step towards her. She was standing in the light. Everything was blurry, and his heart turned around in his chest.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He could see a smile on her lips. "It's you, isn't it? You're really here?" Her voice was quieter, softer than usual, but it didn't matter to him. He took her hand, gently, and cleared his throat.

"Yes...yes I am. I'm here for you, Devi." Her smile widened, showing teeth. She nodded, turned her head back into the light.

"HEY DEVI!" she shrieked. The sound of her voice hurt Johnny's ears. It made him cringe. Something was wrong.

A second voice came from inside. "YEAH, WHAT IS IT?" Johnny croaked out a tiny response. "What's going on?" he asked, politely as he could manage.

The two didn't seem to be listening. "S'YOUR DATE!" answered the non- Devi that stood before Johnny.

"I'll be right there, Tenna!" While they were talking, Johnny peeked into the living room that lay beyond the screamy girl. Intricate, psychedelic paintings covered the walls, but the room was otherwise bare, save for some scant furniture. His eyes caught sight of a human form, curled up in a tiny ball on one of the chairs. And then he saw her. And he fainted.


	9. unnamed

* * *

_I feel that my message has been erased_

_Too soon enchanted with disgrace_

_What's my crime?_

_Turn back time, what's my crime?_

_Where's my lucky star?_

-

She knew that they heard her, and that they understood what she was saying to them, the way a young child understands that a certain rule is in place. They knew the words, they acknowledged them, they bobbed their heads in reply to every sentence, and yet they failed to see the importance in them. Foolish, ignorant fucks that would not listen to reason.

They had always been like this, Devi thought, storming out of the interrogation room for what seemed like the fiftieth unsuccessful time. He was dangerous, she had told them. Be careful around him, don't let him try anything. She could've drawn them a goddamned diagram about what he did to people. They wouldn't have listened anyway, they didn't even give her the benefit of the doubt. Just a solid refusal. She didn't know who to hate more. Wherever Johnny was concerned, there was always a brick wall blocking good judgement and clear thought. Or maybe people were just stupid. 

She had cried, though, when they couldn't find him. Or rather, when she figured out that he wasn't coming back. Nobody would care enough about Johnny to actually go looking for him. The mysterious killings in the area of his house had stopped. She felt less afraid, and there wasn't that low, sickening sensation in her heart whenever she headed in the direction of his neighborhood. It was liberating, and depressing to Devi.

There was a feeling there, nestled in between the fear and revulsion. Something good, something warm and nice that perked up its ears whenever Johnny came to mind. She couldn't deny it, and she didn't want to. It kept her from killing him that night when he pulled those knives out, and it was what kept her from dying now.

Love. They both had it, and although Devi's lay dormant and mostly accepting of its slightly unpleasant circumstances, Johnny's was furious at him. The thing that was currently tormenting him was Love, enraged at Nny's decision to kill it. It feared for its life. And, like anyone else would, it was willing to do anything to keep itself alive.

So Devi was unhappy, and Johnny was unfeeling, more or less, as he was asleep at the moment. He was in one of those hellishly uncomfortable chairs made of abrasive gray cloth and wood and some metal specifically designed to freeze the skin and damage the spine beyond repair. It was the first time he had let himself sleep in a long time, and he would not be awakened, even there.

Devi came out into the foyer, still fuming, when she noticed Johnny. Seeing him able to sleep in such conditions brought a small glow of delight to her face that almost made her forget what she was doing in the police station. Smiling, she sat down in the similarly comfortless chair next to him. His head leaned on her arm slightly. She didn't mind.

Devi's first reaction, when Johnny had collapsed onto her living room floor, was to call the cops. Tenna had been somewhat confused. "But he was so nice just a minute ago," she pressed. She grabbed Devi's shoulder as she put the phone back on the hook. "What's going on?" Devi had leaned against the wall beside one of her paintings, staring at her shoes. She removed the pigtails from her hair and clutched the elastic bands in her fists. "Just watch him, okay? Don't let him out of your sight." She had been caught off guard. Seeing him had sent terror shooting through her veins.

It was okay, though. One way or another, Johnny would be leaving her life, for good this time, and she wouldn't be filled with such apprehension. Apprehension? No, that was the wrong word. Wasn't it? Nervousness? Worry? Yes, she was worried that he'd come back and...do bad things to her. Kidnap her or murder her or something.

No, that was wrong too. Devi had been worried that he would come back, yes, but not to attack her. She was worried about what she'd say to him when he got back. Or maybe that wasn't it, either. She was too fucking mixed-up. It hurt to think so late at night. She realized that she'd been staring at Johnny's face this whole time. She had been noticing how cute he looked when he was asleep. Her own face was much too close to his, her hair brushing the tips of his cheek. Her eyes widened in shock, and she promptly situated herself so that she could turn her eyes in all directions without seeing him. Her hands lay folded and tense on her lap. A bell chimed somewhere in one of the back rooms, and Johnny blinked awake. He stretched out his arms a little, trying to avoid disturbing Devi. Her brow was furrowed, and she appeared to be thinking hard about something. Still, though, he needed to talk to her. His tap on the arm barely registered through her thick tweed jacket. "Devi..." he whispered, and tapped again. "Devi, hello?" She shot him an angry glance and he backed off. "Oh...Johnny, sorry, didn't know it was you..." "Umm, that's okay. What's going on?" She didn't have the heart to tell him that she was here to get him as far away from her as possible. She couldn't lie to him, either. "Don't worry about it." Johnny looked into Devi's eyes. He could see deep pain in them. 

"Alright." There were more words to be said between them. They both understood this. But that was okay. The two of them sat there, two insignificant souls in an insignificant world, leaning on the other gently, and awaited their destiny.


	10. Welcome home

Print what ye want, it's no concern of mine, veggie.

------silec

* * *

He'd fallen asleep like that, next to Devi. Thoughts and inhibitions bombarded his mind, but he paid them no attention and instead succumbed to the wave of bliss spreading throughout his body. When he woke up, however many hours later, Devi was gone, and there was a man asking him to please leave.

Outside, the sun was barely up, but it blinded him. He put up a hand to shield his eyes, and saw Devi, who had pressed herself into a small stone alcove next to the door. She was fussing with her hands. "Johnny..." she said, staring at her toes. He turned, the confusion on his face making it appear as if it was the first time he'd ever seen her. "Don't go looking for me anymore," Devi whispered. Her face was wet. "You know that I'll sure as hell do something, if I find out you've been looking for me."

She pushed herself out of the alcove. "Promise me that you'll leave me alone now." The gears in Johnny's head were clogged, enabling an open-mouthed nod.

Devi started to leave, taking slow steps, but stopped at the first stair. "If you should ever see me, just by accident, I think that would be okay." She circled around. "But I couldn't stay, you know, if I saw you." Nny was smiling. The gesture was a disused one that cracked the skin around his mouth. He couldn't quite figure out why he was smiling. "So I guess this is goodbye, then?"

She ran up to Johnny and kissed him. It was a light touch on his lips, nothing more, and then she backed away. "Yes, I think it would be." She brushed some hair from her face. "Goodbye, Johnny."

"Goodbye, Devi." She waved to him, a small twinkling of her fingers, and then she left. He would not go looking for her, and she would be content if she was never found. And she was gone.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"That was lame, Johnny."

"Shut up."

"That was incredibly lame. You should have done something. You could have done something. I know you." There were people staring. The crazy man was talking to himself.

"I told you to fucking shut up." He set the brainfreezy down on the counter, lukewarm red liquid spilling out over the top and onto his hand. He glanced at the cashier. It was a teenager. Nny recognized his ilk. More than one of them had become one of his victims. The boy had a look of disgust and superiority on his makeup-slathered, pimply face.

Johnny turned his head away and threw money at the boy. "I am in no mood for you."

"The fuck's your problem, faggot?" A knife was at his throat in a millisecond. He held his hands up above his head. "Hey! Hey, wait, no, I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!"

"They never mean it, do they?" he rasped. He got up on the table, still holding the knife against the pale skin. "They laugh and they laugh, but if it ever gets back to them, they deny it all to save their own pathetic, worthless lives!" Johnny closed his eyes, and felt the movements, yet again. The way the flesh succumbed like butter to the blade. The blood, the voice, the way that they all stopped because of him. And he indulged in it. It was all a game, a game he'd missed so very much.

The others in the store were motionless. When Johnny realized that the boy was dead, he opened his eyes, and looked at the gore that clung to his face, his clothes. "It's nothing," he shouted, open his arms wide to the crowds. "Look, everyone, it's all nothing. All that you are, that which you aspire to be, is nothing!" But they weren't looking. They were screaming, and running away.

"LOOK, DAMNIT!" They still wouldn't listen. So he would have to teach them, one by one.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was late. Nny was glad to get home before it got too dark. When he parked his car into that familiar driveway, the anger he had felt earlier dissipated, and was replaced with calm. He was home. He was really, finally, home.

Everything was as he had left it. The doors were still nicely boarded up, the tire mark from when he'd departed so anxiously was still there in his plot of dead grass and loose dirt. And, he was sure, little Squeegee remained in his room next door.

"Why don't you go inside?" the stranger implored.

"I think I will..." He felt for his keys, found the right one, and place the rusted metal into the lock. The door squeaked open, falling off its hinges and landing in a cloud of dust. The moonlight scaring away any rats or insects that fell into the bright rectangle.

Johnny stepped inside. "I'm home!" he cried into the darkness. There was a silence. Suddenly, something short and quick skittered across the floor, keeping to the black wall directly across from Johnny. It stopped before the light of the doorway, not letting itself be seen, and laughed.

"And aren't we all so very happy..."


	11. An end

Wow. I update. Unexpected.

--silec

* * *

Johnny took a step backward, one foot out the doorway. "Who are you?" he asked, still trying to see whatever it was that he was asking. A faint, moving shape, low to the ground, was all he could see of it. As it made its way toward him, a piercing screech sent Johnny to his knees, his hands pressed hard against his head.

Another shape, deeper into the black room, was coming. It was slightly bigger, although still much shorter than Johnny. It joined the other creature, and the two advanced upon him. They came closer, the agonizing noise still ringing in the air, and he got a better look at them.

The bigger one, the one that was causing that awful sound, had no legs. It moved by digging its hands into the rotted floorboards, and then pulling the rest of its body forward. His skin was smooth and milk white. It looked completely unnatural. Like plastic.

Like styrofoam.

"You don't remember us, Johnny?" it asked, faking sadness. Black spiral eyes marred with scrapes and deep gouges grinned at him. "How could you forget us?"

Johnny looked back and found a heavy wooden door blocking his path. There hadn't been one there. It was broken, it had fallen down, and yet here it was, impeding his escape. "Fuck..." he muttered.

"No, not him. I'm sorry to say that he was unable to make it, seeing as how he was permanently incapacitated. While we're on the subject..." The injured doughboy propped his crumbling torso into a sitting position. He appeared to be thinking very hard. "I think you may know something about that, my boy."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about. You're not real. You never were," Nny spat. He tried the knob. It was locked. The smaller creature, an unidentifiable thing with sharp, spiderlike legs crept into view beside Psychodoughboy.

"While that may be true, the fact is that I exist. I have a purpose, or at least, I used to, as did my friend here, until you had to go on that mission of yours and fuck everything up." He motioned to his friend, whose empty eyesockets looked up at Johnny with curiosity. It nodded in affirmation to Psychodoughboy.

Johnny laughed. "But you're not real. You can't hurt me." The small one tilted its head to the side, and then shook it solemnly. The doughboy clasped his hands together. "We're dying, Johnny. This whole house and everything in it, as you have probably already noticed. And, by your standards, I suppose we aren't real."

He was suddenly aware of other presences in the room, of a presence inside himself that had been silent for some time. He felt an onslaught of intense nausea, like someone had just force-fed him fifty pounds of sauerkraut and then punched him in the stomach. "Not now...please, not now..."

"We're very tired, Sickness and I. We're also very sad to have said goodbye to so many of our friends." He adjusted his chef's hat. The other one, 'Sickness,' shrieked with glee from a nonexistent mouth. "But that doesn't mean we can't hurt you."

He couldn't stop himself. He dropped to all fours and vomited more violently than any had ever before. The contents of his stomach alone weren't enough to fuel such a thing, it seemed that the bowels of every person on the planet had been shot through Johnny's esophagus onto his living room floor. Psychodoughboy and Sickness halted in disgust.

It was over after several seconds. Johnny coughed, expeling the last of it, and crouched against the wall. At the center of the horrific display that now covered the room, there was a third creature. Huddled with its knees drawn to its chest, it looked at Johnny's Voices, and then at its surroundings. It stood up. It was about five feet tall, and human in appearance. It inspected its body, flexing unfamiliar fingers and poking random limbs. Then it turned and faced Johnny.

Eyes like Devi. Arms and legs and skin and hair, all Devi. But not the face. Its face was dead and decomposed, showing no emotion. The flesh was nearly gone, exposing the bone underneath. She stared at Johnny, a cold look into his eyes sending a sword through his throat. She knelt down and picked up the two little creatures at her feet. They struggled in vain while she picked them apart and threw the discarded pieces to the ground. When there was no trace of them left, she held out a hand to Johnny and beckoned him closer.

The door was kicked open. Johnny was blinded by the sudden appearance of light. There were police cars parked in his front lawn. A man grabbed him by the arm and jerked him to his feet. Nny was too weak to resist. "We got a report of a noise disturbance from one of your neighbors, kid! Says you been holding some kind of crazy party!" The not-Devi was confused. She still held her hand out to Johnny, but her eyes darted from different objects rapidly.

"Well, let me tell you something. We don't tolerate any crazy parties in this city. So we're going to send you to the insane asylum until you can learn to respect that." As Johnny was dragged from the building and handcuffed, the policeman tipped his hat to the not-Devi, who was still very confused. "Sorry to bother you, miss." He left, and closed the door behind him.

"No, wait!" she cried out. She ran to the door and turned the knob. They'd locked it. She looked for a window, another way out. There was none.

The stranger sat down, picked up a small piece of Psychodoughboy, and shredded it. "What the _fuck_?"

the end

* * *

I've got a sequel in the works, so expect more stuff outta me soon. It's been fun, and very strange. Thanks for reading. I apologize for any actual vomiting this lame-ass chapter may cause.

---silec


End file.
